


Home is Not a Place

by kathalcyon, shihadchick



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-18
Updated: 2010-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathalcyon/pseuds/kathalcyon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shihadchick/pseuds/shihadchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bookstore AU set in Calgary, where Ryan and Spencer find that making a place to belong may in fact be easier than they could've imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home is Not a Place

**Author's Note:**

> This is a combination prose and chat-fic story, a series of glimpses of Jon and Spencer's relationship and the people who make up their lives. With thanks to [digitalsprawl](http://digitalsprawl.livejournal.com) for a reassurance and hand-holding (even if she did try to enable me in the desire to call this "and they lived happily ever after in a Canadian Shack". :D) And as always, co-writing with Kat was (and is) an absolute pleasure. We're at the point now where mostly we don't even remember who wrote what, but she totally did all the best bits. ♥

Spencer really fucking hates snow. He especially hates snow that comes out of nowhere on what had been a nice spring morning when he'd worn new sneakers and an old hoodie to work. He's going to freeze if he walks home in that. Or wreck his shoes, which he thinks is probably worse.

"Dude, you're going to freeze."

Startled, he looks over his shoulder to see the guy who always serves him at Starbucks, much more sensibly dressed, from his jacket and gloves to- okay, flip-flops, but what catches Spencer's attention are the car keys dangling from his finger. Definitely those and not the tiny grin on his face. For sure.

"Um," Spencer starts, not really sure he actually wants to ask.

"You walk home, right?" the guy asks, and wow, Spencer really needs to find out his name already. He kind of hadn't wanted to ask anyone at work because Ryan would've heard about it and then teased Spencer _forever_.

"Look- it's Spencer, right? I'm Jon," and he lifts one hand to his mouth, using his teeth to pull one glove off before offering it to Spencer to shake.

Spencer isn't entirely sure for a second whether he's more caught by the flash of strong white teeth, the firm grip, or the fact that Jon knows his name. It's not like he ever remembers his stupid name tag, either, so Jon has to have been paying attention somewhere.

"I'll give you a ride home, if you like?" Jon looks suddenly a little uncertain.

"That would be awesome, really," Spencer assures him.

"This is Canada, dude," Jon says a minute later when Spencer hurls himself into the front seat of Jon's car and tries to become one with the heating vents, "you really need to learn to dress for the weather already."

"I'm from Nevada," Spencer whines, forgetting for a second that he wants to sound cool in front of Jon.

"And we can tell," Jon says, but it's friendly, as he says it. "Hey, that's never going to work fast enough," Jon adds, pulling Spencer's hands away from in front of the vents. "Try this," and he pulls Spencer's hand over to his own mouth and blows warm air over Spencer's tingling fingers. Spencer swallows hard, embarrassingly audible, and just stares.

Jon drops his hand as if burned, and goes very pink. "I- um. Sorry?" and he just sounds so fucking Canadian that Spencer has to smile, despite the fact that it's like a million below zero out, he's crazily and possibly inappropriately turned on, and he's sitting in a car with the hot Starbucks guy while the windows steam up for all the wrong reasons.

"It's okay," Spencer says, "really," and then he scoots sort of uncomfortably across the front seat and leans into Jon's space, mentally crossing his fingers. Jon doesn't shift away, just reaches towards Spencer's hip, and makes damn sure the park brake is on before they start kissing.

* * *

"My shift was up an hour ago," Jon admits, lips dragging soft against Spencer's neck. "I waited just in case."

Spencer's fingers tighten at Jon's waist, curling almost without conscious volition into the belt-loops of his waistband. "I wait till you're on the counter to take my breaks," he admits in return, can feel Jon's smile rush warm against his skin.

"I thought I might get your number if you didn't think I was too weird," Jon continues, punctuating with a nip to Spencer's ear which makes his knees weak and other parts… not. "I didn't think I'd get to second base." His fingers inch under Spencer's shirt, and he takes a second to be grateful that the heat is running now, and that the windows are even more steamed up.

"Is there a second base for guys?" he asks breathlessly, because Jon's hands are framing his hips, and his scruffy two-day beard is scraping a little as he nuzzles down Spencer's neck, sucking at the point of his collarbone, "and besides, you shouldn't be so sure of yourself, Jon. Maybe I'm not that kind of boy," but then Jon brushes the side of his wrist deliberately over Spencer's thigh, and as he bites back a groan and ignores Jon's low, delighted chuckle, he has to conclude that, yeah, he pretty much is that kind of boy.

Spencer gets home late, and as pink in the face as if he'd walked, but with dry feet, at least. And a date for the next night, as well as the promise of some more free coffee the next time they're both on shift.

* * *

Spencer's a little annoyed with himself for being nervous just because he's going over to Jon's place. It's not like it means anything, or means that anything's going to happen. He and Jon aren't anything – just a couple guys who made out and then started hanging out together at work and then made out again. He only found out Jon's name a few days ago. This is not a big deal.

No matter what Ryan says.

(Ryan's being a real bitch about it, too, constantly referring to Jon disdainfully as Spencer's boyfriend, at _work_, even, and – it's not like Spencer doesn't want people to know that the hot Starbucks guy is his boyfriend, he just think that shouldn't happen till the hot Starbucks guy _is_ his boyfriend. If that happens. You know.

Mostly Ryan should just shut the fuck up.)

Jon has the day off, and Spencer opened that morning, so it only made sense to reply _y, cu_ when Jon had texted him _want to come over for dinner?_ It took half an hour for it to sink in that this meant he was going over to Jon's. For dinner. Like a date. (Spencer has only himself to blame for actually telling Ryan about it.)

Jon gets to the store ten minutes before Spencer gets off work – Spencer knows because he's restocking a display near the door. Slowly. Not that he's been waiting, or anything. Jon smiles at him – Jon has the best smile – and touches him lightly on the shoulder, which is as much as Spencer's comfortable with at work. "Want a latte?" Jon asks.

Spencer can't help smiling back. "Yeah, thanks. Um. I'm off in a couple minutes."

"Yeah, I'll meet you in Starbucks, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Spencer watches Jon walk over to the coffee shop. It occurs to him a minute later to hope he doesn't look like a freak.

Spencer hadn't been planning on going out after work, so he didn't bring anything but a hoodie with him. He wishes he had something to change into, but when he gets to Starbucks, Jon hands him a latte and says "Nice shirt," so the blue button-up is probably okay.

"Should we… um." Spencer takes a sip of coffee because he's not entirely sure how to finish that sentence.

"Yeah, let's go," Jon says easily. "I hope you like frozen pizza, because I kind of don't have any other groceries."

"That's cool," Spencer says, then winces, because what a stupid thing to say. The nice thing about Jon, though, is that he doesn't seem to notice or care when Spencer says stupid and uncool things.

When they get in the car, Jon leans over and kisses him. His eyes are crinkly and smiling up close. "I figured I shouldn't do that at your work," he says softly.

"… Probably not," Spencer says. And then, because it's probably okay to say it here, he adds "But I wanted you to."

Jon leans over again and kisses him _again_. Spencer feels awesome. "Okay," Jon says. "Just be quiet for a minute now, okay? And don't smile or look hot or anything. Because I definitely shouldn't do that when I'm driving."

Spencer presses his lips together and sneaks little peeks at Jon, and doesn't say anything.

***

Jon's basement suite is two parts regular guy – hand-me-down couch, and an X-Box, and a small pile of dishes in the sink – and one part fascinatingly Jon, like the eight pairs of flip-flops at the door – seriously eight, Spencer counted – and the OC DVDs on top of the TV. And the bass tucked away in one corner.

Spencer heads over to it, because he can't not. "You play?" he asks.

Jon comes over to him, puts a hand on Spencer's shoulder, lets it linger. "Yeah, a bit. Why, you?"

"Drums. I had to leave them at my parents, though; shipping them was going to be really expensive. Ryan and I used to have sort of a band, back home."

There's a pause before Jon says, "I'm in a band, actually. We're – well, we kind of suck. But you could come see us. Sometime."

"Yeah?" Spencer puts an arm around Jon's waist, even though he thinks maybe that's a weird thing to do to another guy. Jon doesn't seem to mind, though. "I'd like that. Just let me know when."

Jon kisses him, then, and puts his arms around Spencer's neck and pets at his hair. It's slow and sweet and lasts for a while. "I told you not to do that," he tells Spencer quietly.

"What?" Spencer asks, his face still very close to Jon's.

"You're not supposed to look hot. It makes things really difficult for me, okay? You shouldn't smile at me at work anymore, I keep fucking up because you're so distracting and your smile is so pretty." Jon pauses. Spencer doesn't know what to say. "And I actually just said that," Jon continues. "The pizza is in the freezer, I'm just going to be in the bathroom, killing myself."

"No, hey," Spencer says, and doesn't let go. It's nice that he's not the only one who says things and then feels embarrassed. "Not till after pizza, okay? And I need to see your band."

Jon twitches a little; Spencer can feel it. It's pretty great. "We have a gig on Thursday," he says. "I didn't know if it would be weird or whatever if I invited you."

"It's not weird," Spencer assures him. It's also pretty great, being the guy doing the assuring. He bites Jon's shoulder, through his t-shirt, in appreciation. "Come on, pizza? I'm pretty hungry."

"And then we can watch a DVD or something," Jon says, leaning into Spencer.

"Or make out on your couch," Spencer says, because he kind of owes it to Jon to say one of the stupid, lame, girly things he keeps thinking.

"Yeah, okay," Jon says.

***

Using a combination of guilt and begging, Spencer manages to con his Thursday night shift onto Greta. He thinks 'Home free!' a little prematurely – she then asks why he needs it off so badly, and won't let it go when he starts blushing. She laughs delightedly when he admits that it's to see Jon's band, and has clearly been listening to Ryan too much, because she starts talking a little too loudly about Spencer's boyfriend, which just – no. That's still not a word Spencer is comfortable with in the situation. What if a customer hears? What if _Jon_ hears?

But that's mostly irrelevant anyway, Thursday night. Spencer drags Ryan with him to the divey downtown bar and they sit at a booth to the side and Ryan doesn't even blink when Spencer orders a beer. Jon waves at them a little when the band came on stage, and Spencer grins and feels kind of warm inside. Ryan, the bitch, notices and laughs at him.

Jon had been pretty careful to not get Spencer's expectations up about the band, but they don't suck, really – they're definitely better than the band he and Ryan had been in with a couple half-hearted friends back in Vegas. He's simultaneously horrified and thrilled when the singer (William, and Jon had told Spencer some _hilarious_ stories about him in preparation for the gig) dedicates a song to "my friend Jon's special friend" and proceeds to sing it, low and sexy. It's awesome but also a little scary that Jon's telling his friends about them.

Jon comes over to their booth between sets, trailing the guitarist behind him. "Hey, this is my friend Tom," he says casually, sliding in beside Spencer and kissing him briefly. It doesn't take long for Spencer to realize he's getting the sort of best-friend-grilling that Jon gets every time Ryan is around. Spencer hopes like hell he's not coming across as too weird or too young or too into Jon or not into Jon enough as they hold hands under the table and Tom asks him innocuous-seeming questions about his job and music and how he likes Canada. It's pretty nerve-wracking.

They have to go play another set after a drink, so Jon kisses Spencer – again! In public! – before heading back to the stage. Tom nods – cordially, Spencer thinks thankfully – at them as he leaves. "How did that go?" he hisses at Ryan.

Ryan raises an eyebrow and looks at him like he's stupid. "How did what go?"

Spencer can feel himself sort of flailing in frustration; he hopes it isn't obvious from the stage. "That was my first time meeting one of his friends who doesn't work at Starbucks!"

Ryan rolls his eyes. "I'm sure Jon doesn't care that much about how you sounded."

"Oh, right, like you don't judge everything he says or does," Spencer snipes.

Ryan pauses a moment. "Yeah, well, I'm kind of a judgmental bitch."

That cracks Spencer up, like it was intended to do – no one has ever known Spencer as well as Ryan, and maybe no one ever will. "No, seriously," Ryan continues. "You were fine, so stop worrying, okay? Jon really is that into you. Tom's not going to say anything to change that."

"How do you know?"

"Because you didn't stop liking Jon when I called his flip-flops stupid."

Spencer blinks. "What?"

"I'm just saying, I'm pretty sure there's nothing I could say that would get you to stop liking him, and I'd bet there's nothing anyone could say to make him stop liking you." Ryan pauses. "You guys are actually kind of gross."

Spencer beams.

***

>   
> **Claire:** Just imagine Spencer getting all impatient and itchy with it, because, god, he really really likes Jon, and okay, he's nervous as hell because sometimes he really thinks he has no idea what he's (they're) doing or anything, but he just _wants_. And those are the times he usually sort of ends up crawling halfway into Jon's lap (if he can manage it; obviously that works much better on Jon's couch when they're meant to be watching tv than, say, in the car) and kissing him until they're both a little shaky with oxygen deprivation, and Spencer's kind of plastered so tight up against Jon that it's like he's trying to crawl inside, and that's usually when Jon has to rediscover his self-control - and god, it's practically a superpower, Spencer has no idea how he does it, but he's usually - five minutes later, at least - grateful he does, and Jon gets his hands on Spencer's hips and encourages him to shift back, just a little, kissing him sweetly so it doesn't seem like any kind of rejection, because it's not, it's so, so not, and sometimes it's all Jon can do to wait until Spencer has to go home before he has to go take a very cold shower. Or, you know, kind of jerk off a lot. But he tries not to think about jerking off when Spencer is there, because he's really not made of stone and there's only so much self-control one person can _have_.  
> **Claire:** Jon has been REALLY WELL GROOMED lately. He's been showering kind of a LOT.  
> **Kat:** But not shaving any more than usual.  
> **Claire:** Well, no. Partly it's his Thing, and mostly he kind of, um. Likes how Spencer's skin goes all pink after they've been necking for a while. He did ask, a little while ago, if Spencer minded, and Spencer had just blushed a little under that, skin going even hotter, and stumbled over words that were probably meant to bear some resemblance to 'I like it' but came out with a lot more vowel sounds.  
> Spencer's been going home with a LOT of hickeys lately, and Jon is kind of still maybe a little ducking behind the coffee machine every time Ryan glances his way at work, because he's not entirely sure how Ryan feels about other people gnawing on his Spencer, and not for nothing did Jon watch them - He's just observant! In a totally non-creepy way! - for a few weeks before he made the first move. Ryan is _scary_.  
> **Kat:** It's all the Chuck Palahniuk.

* * *

Spencer can practically feel Jon's eyes widen as he strolls into Starbucks, which, okay, is not unexpected – they mostly see each other at or after work, and his girls' jeans and pink t-shirt are definitely not dress code. But it's the first really nice day of spring, a couple weeks after the late April snowstorm (and who had convinced Spencer to move to a place that had snowstorms, well, _ever_, but also in the _spring_), and he has the day off, and Jon gets off work in fifteen minutes, and he has _plans_.

"…hi, Spence," Jon says in a voice that's kind of strangled and amazing. Spencer can't stop himself from grinning, and he can _see_ Jon swallow. Awesome.

Jon is pretty clearly not paying attention to the drink he's making, but luckily the middle-aged woman at the end of the counter looks pretty indulgent. She's a regular at the bookstore, actually; Spencer had helped her find the latest Oprah pick the week before. (She'd originally asked Ryan for help – all the middle-aged ladies want Ryan's help – but he inevitably tries to sell them some Palahniuk, even if they're looking for a cookbook or something.)

"The usual?" asks Jon's co-worker Brendon from behind the counter. Brendon is this kind of hyper, hilarious kid who tells Spencer embarrassing stories about Jon and never charges him for lattes if their manager isn't around.

"Yeah, thanks. And whatever Jon wants." Spencer gets out his wallet – he makes the effort every time; it isn't like he expects free drinks, especially not from people he isn't regularly making out with – but Brendon, as usual, waves it away.

Jon makes Spencer's grande latte and something disgusting and adorable with three kinds of syrup for himself, paying much closer attention than the steamed milk requires. He's not talking at all, which is pretty weird and would have gotten Spencer worried, if he wasn't sneaking little looks up at Spencer's – shirt? Maybe shirt. More likely hips, though, which Spencer is _totally_ on board with.

Spencer sips slowly at his drink as Jon finishes up and goes to grab his stuff. "So, I had an idea," Spencer says when they get out of the store.

Jon raises an eyebrow and grins. "Yeah?"

Spencer grins back. He possibly smiles more around Jon than he does in the rest of his life combined. "Yeah. Put your bag in your car, we're going for a walk."

"We can drive to your place, Spence."

"We're not going to my place."

Jon tosses his bag into the backseat, and Spencer hands him his vanilla-caramel-toffee nut concoction. "Then where are we going?"

Spencer shifts his own drink to the other hand, and grabs Jon's free one, lacing their fingers together. "I found a park."

"What, there's no green space in Vegas?" Jon's hand is warmer than Spencer's, and his thumb is moving slowly, rubbing up and down a little.

"Asshole," Spencer says affectionately. "It's nice out, and there's a park nearby, and we're going for a walk. Unless that's a problem?" He raises an eyebrow, giving his best bitchface, because as great as coffee and making out on Jon's couch is, he does kind of want to. Well. Date.

The park is just a few minutes' walk from the store, and greener than anywhere Spencer has seen in Canada so far, and there's a playground with some kids on the see-saw. There are flowers blooming in beds alongside the path. It's a disgustingly adorable setting, and Spencer feels smugly, disgustingly adorable himself with his fingers intertwined in Jon's.

"Hey, come on," Jon says suddenly, tugging Spencer towards the playground, unerringly tossing his empty cup into the trash can. He lets go, sits on a swing, and smiles winningly up at Spencer. "Push me?"

Spencer tries to give him bitchface again, but it isn't like the park wasn't his idea, and he knows by now that Jon is just a giant dorky (hot) child, for all that he's a couple years older than Spencer. He sighs, deliberately loudly, but sets his drink on the grass, steps behind the swing set and places his hands against Jon's shoulders. He doesn't push for a couple moments but, well, it isn't Spencer's fault that Jon's back is solid and firm and feels really good underneath his black button-up.

It doesn't take long for Jon to be swinging really fucking high, high enough for Spencer to worry, because for all that Jon is shorter than him, he's pretty solidly built and definitely weighs more than the kids the swing set was designed for. He's trying to figure out how best to say "hey, maybe you should be done, it would suck if the swing broke and you died" without sounding really lame when Jon jumps off the swing at apogee and lands on his side, rolling a little.

Spencer almost starts to run, but Jon sits up and starts laughing, brushing dust and grass off his pants. Spencer walks over instead, and reaches down a hand to help Jon up. "That was _awesome_," Jon says, not letting go of Spencer's hand. "I'm going to go again. No, wait, you should go. Then I'm going to go again."

"Hey, Jon," Spencer says, tightening his grip a little and gesturing with his chin. "My apartment's right over there, and Ryan's closing tonight."

Jon's smile gets even wider. "Spencer Smith, I thought you wanted to go for a walk with me."

"Well, you know. That was before I realized how embarrassing you are to be around. Now I don't want to be seen in public with you."

"Yeah, okay."

(And then they don't have sex but get closer than they have before, because Spencer's kind of a pushy bitch, and part of Jon -- a _very particular part_ \-- wishes he didn't feel quite so, well, protective of Spencer, and we need to stop _now_, Smith, seriously, walk me to my car and I'll see you tomorrow, okay?)

And then they make out a little more right by Jon's car, and he's got one hand on Spencer's face and the other tucked into the (tiny - stupid girls jeans) back pocket of his pants, and his tongue is totally in Spencer's mouth and sure, maybe the kissing is edging back towards dirty, but that still doesn't mean he doesn't jump half out of his skin - and nearly bite Spencer, and really not in the good way - when Ryan walks right up behind them and clears his throat deliberately.

Jon only lets go of Spencer reluctantly, because firstly, well, he's not afraid of Ryan Ross, and if he was, he certainly is too smart to show it, at least, and secondly because, well, _Spencer_. Spencer has no compunctions whatsoever, though, about rolling his eyes, because, seriously, Ryan, and then shoving him a little and looking apologies at Jon, who's touching the side of his mouth self-consciously, and there's a mark under his jaw, as well, from earlier, and now that Spencer's noticed it he can't take his eyes off it, and as a cooling-off period walking Jon to his car is pretty much a giant failure, because he's right back to itchy and too hot and so, so tempted to just fold himself into the passenger seat and beg Jon to take him back to his place. He doesn't think Jon would say yes, yet, but he's a little too aware that it's not really fair of him to keep pushing and let Jon be the one who has to say 'no' all the time.

Jon leans in for a goodbye kiss, quick and chaste and dry, and then gets into his car, driving off with a half wave and a crooked grin, hair falling into his eyes, and Spencer stares for a second before reminding himself he is not thirteen or pining, and pivots on his heel to head back up to their apartment, where Ryan will enact dramatic scenes to ask him if the couch is still, in fact, fit for uses involving eating or even just sitting, and when is Jon Walker going to make an honest woman out of him anyway?

Spencer will just flip him off and break open the cereal, because, hey, dinner, and he's kind of, you know, worked up an appetite. Displacement activities, and all that, and he's pretty sure if he went to practice now on the second-hand drums he'd picked up for cheap the neighbors would arrange to have him shot. Or arrested, whatever.

Besides, every time he sits down at his kit and thinks about Jon he flashes back to a million and one awful jokes about how there's other things he'd rather be banging, and he doesn't need that kind of distraction.

So he hip-checks the utensil drawer shut, wrapping thumb and index finger around the side of a bowl full of AppleJacks, the spoon tucked neatly under the curve of his thumb (because in his opinion, the two second rule does not count for anything that's touched the floor in this place). He doesn't really want to have to wash a bunch of dishes right now, and this is the last clean one. And then Spencer heads into his own room, where he flops down on the bed, has a couple of mouthfuls of cereal and then tugs his sidekick out of his pocket to send Jon a couple of - only mildly! - suggestive texts, because that somehow seems to get around Jon's stupid 'not taking advantage of Spencer's innocence' policy, and he's kind of hoping that he'll wear him down faster if Jon has to start carrying around a phone full of filthy messages that he hopes to god no one else will get curious about.

(It's one thing to hide out in teen fiction and peer over the shelves on his break to watch the back of Jon's neck go red when he flips open his phone to check the message Spencer just sent, but imagining anyone else seeing them as well? It makes Spencer's stomach go squirmy, and not in the good way.)

Ryan asked him what he was texting, once, when they were in the lounge watching something on tv, and when Spencer wouldn't answer he just loftily said 'if you're not grown up enough to say it, you're not grown up enough to do it,' and then wrecked the moment by snickering, and Spencer threw a cushion at him because, geez, Ryan, shut up.

(Later, when Spencer tells Ryan that he's going away for the weekend, with Jon, he knows that he's telegraphing every last second of what he hopes is going to happen, eyes shining and hands restless. Ryan just smiles at him, a little solemnly, in that Ryan way he has, and then hugs him briefly, whispering 'have fun' and 'be careful' and Spencer honestly couldn't say which he said first. He likes that Ryan trusts Jon, trusts Spencer's judgment. It would be so, so much harder if Ryan didn't, because Spencer just can't compartmentalize like that, he never could get around people not liking Ryan or vice versa, and it's another thing that adds up to this being the right decision, he thinks.)

* * *

"You know I'm not actually a girl," Spencer says. It's maybe not the best time to be saying that, because he's lying on the couch with his head in Jon's lap, and Jon's cat is curled up on his stomach, and Jon's hands are carding lightly through his hair.

"Your bangs suggest otherwise," Jon murmurs.

Spencer huffs out a breath. "No, I mean it. You don't have to be so… careful."

Jon takes a deep breath; Spencer can feel it. "Look," he said after a second. "My first time wasn't great, okay? I was younger than you, and it was with a random guy at a party because I just wanted to get it over with, and now I wish I'd done it differently. If your first time is with me, I don't want you to wish you'd done it differently."

Spencer has to sit up then, has to lean over to kiss Jon all over his face, feel the prickle of his stubble and the smoothness of his skin. "You're such a dork," he whispers before kissing Jon on the lips, softly. "I'm not going to regret it." He can feel Jon's smile against his cheek. "Also," Spencer continues, "you're never allowed to make fun of my bangs again."

* * *

They're all hanging out at Jon's one day, watching videos, and Brendon and Ryan are sort of dancing around each other, flirting awkwardly, and Jon and Spencer are snuggled up on the couch under a blanket – Brendon had got bored with teasing them about how sickeningly cute they were suspiciously fast after Ryan arrived, and Jon just had his head resting against Spencer's shoulder, half-watching the movie, knees tucked into Spencer's lap, when he felt Spencer's hand smooth across his shirt, palm flat and firm against his stomach, making his skin jump and twitch, and he goes still, looking worriedly at Ryan and Brendon.

"Shh," Spencer breathes into his ear, "no one's looking," and then he shifts a little more and Jon nearly swallows his tongue. It's entirely possible he's underestimated just how evil a mind lurks behind Spencer's pretty, pretty face.

* * *

Jon and Spencer don't actually spend all their time making out - despite what unkind people, yes, Brendon, shut up, we are talking about you - might say. They both get a little ridiculously competitive over video games, although Jon refuses to play Guitar Hero after a while and so Spencer has to content himself with schooling Brendon at it whenever he's visiting too; and they can both easily spend hours browsing music stores, especially the ones downtown with a huge second-hand collection.

Jon tends to drag Spencer over to the dustiest sale bins they have and make him stand there and mock the album covers with him, and occasionally they find some really cool stuff, too. Jon actually has a for-real record player, and so they'll curl up on the couch and listen to that sometimes, instead of CDs (or DVDs), and even though it seems hopelessly teenage girl to admit it (and so he doesn't, not out loud, anyway), Spencer thinks that those are some of the nicest evenings he's had. Dylan will usually wander through and demand to be fed at some point, and then he'll curl up on whatever parts of Jon or Spencer are available (and Spencer is so proud that Jon's cat likes him, because he has a feeling that the opposite case might be very similar to what it's like when Ryan doesn't like people Spencer likes. On reflection, he's not sure whether this comparison is more insulting to Dylan or Ryan, so he doesn't share it, just snickers a little and scratches under Dylan's chin).

Of course, they do also spend a fair amount of time making out, and while they're good at work - well, mostly. On the clock they are, anyway. Breaks really don't count - all bets are kind of off the second they're free. Which is how Spencer finishes his shift and steps outside, doesn't see Jon - he doesn't always meet Spencer after work, and so he figures he can just walk home and Jon will call if he's free to hang out - and takes a grand total of three steps before he's nearly falling flat on his ass on the wet pavement, because Jon's clearly been waiting just around the corner to tackle him, and after he's made sure that Spencer doesn't fall over (because it would really suck to rip the knees out of his favourite jeans, too), with what an observer might consider an entirely unnecessary amount of hands-on steadying, he just leans all over Spencer's shoulders (which means he has to be up on his toes, because he's totally shorter, and Spencer is magnaminous in genetic superiority and only lords this over Jon, like, every now and then. Really not that often at all. Not that often compared to a daily basis, at least). Spencer can't help giggling, because Jon is wrapped around his shoulders like an exceptionally clingy octopus (like Brendon on a sugar high), and he's singing 'Baby, It's Cold Outside' right into Spencer's ear, chin digging through the layers of scarf and jacket to press harder against the line of muscle above Spencer's collarbones. It's kind of the most stupidly adorable thing ever, and Spencer snuggles back into Jon, resting his own hands over Jon's where they're clasped over his bellybutton, and he tilts his head aside a little, just enough so that Jon presses a kiss to the side of his neck, interrupting himself in the middle of the chorus before he just whispers "hi there, Spencer Smith, missed you," and turns Spencer around to kiss him properly.

***

>   
> **Kat:** I keep thinking about Spencer hiding away and alphabetizing, like, kids' non-fiction. But Jon always hones in on him easily, and no one's around, so it's probably safe to steal a kiss -- but of course, that's when someone rounds the corner and sees them. Maybe Spencer blushes. Maybe it's adorable.  
> **Claire:** And Spencer's got his arms full of books about whales and dolphins and sea creatures and diving, and probably he couldn't have fended off Jon without dropping them, but the way he's leaning makes it clear that he was just as complicit.  
> **Kat:** I can't decide who catches them though. unless it's, like, a series and they keep getting caught in different places by different people.  
> **Claire:** I almost don't want it to be something that happens too often. Unless it was after hours and there was a set-up thing going on or something. and Jon weaselled his way into 'helping' which by that stage pretty much everyone knew meant 'getting underfoot and making people coffee on breaks and ambushing Spencer behind the counter for illegitimate kissing-type purposes', but because Spencer is generally so efficient and gets stuff done even with, well, a handful of Jon (and sometimes it's best not to inquire which handful of which part of Jon in particular), so mostly everyone just thinks it's kind of adorable.  
> **Kat:** They could sneak behind some shelves in the computer section before Spencer starts work.  
> **Claire:** Or maybe everyone BUT Ryan keeps catching them and Ryan almost thinks that everyone else is having him on at first. And Brendon keeps trying to steal Jon's camera to take pictures, and Spencer does NOT approve.  
> **Kat:** But Jon almost (_almost_) wishes Brendon would manage it, because he sometimes wants to be kissing Spencer and also taking pictures of himself kissing Spencer.  
> **Claire:** For Jon's birthday, later in the year, Spencer kind of talks to Jon's best friend Tom and sets it up so Tom can actually get a couple of pictures of them when Jon isn't paying attention. (Spencer just closes his eyes and tries not to think about the camera he knows is there, and it's surprisingly easy given, well, Jon. So he just leans in and lets his arms slide loose and low around Jon's waist, mouth soft against his.) And when Tom shows him the photos a couple of days later, Spencer kind of can't believe it, because he looks just as unaware as Jon is, completely lost and absorbed in him, and he has to swallow hard before he thanks Tom and slides the best picture into a frame for Jon.) And just imagine Jon's FACE when Spencer gives it to him, and he's all "how...?" and making funny faces, and Spencer's maybe secretly a little freaked because what if this was too far, what if Jon doesn't like it, and he bites his lip before he can start babbling. And Jon just puts the picture down - very, very carefully, and he has to be careful that his grip doesn't shake a little, because, god, Spencer - and catches Spencer's hands in his own, turning them palm up, thumbs tracing tiny arcs across the tendons and veins of his wrists, voice hushed as he says "Spencer, Spencer, thank you. I love it." and he just pulls Spencer closer to him, hiding his face briefly against the side of Spencer's neck, breath puffing warm and even over Spencer's skin, hair falling into his eyes. "I love it," he repeats, and Spencer relaxes against him.

 

* * *

Jon's kind of surprised when Spencer admits he's never been out to the mountains, because what's the point of living close enough to touch without actually _touching_? Spencer shrugs it off -- it's not like he can't see them at the horizon any time he likes, and anyway, he doesn't have a car. Jon just sort of nods, and kisses Spencer's wrist, and drops the subject. And makes mental plans. Jon does have a car, and it may not be great, but it'll make it an hour and a half.

He bargains away a couple shifts at Starbucks, charms Spencer's manager Bob into giving Spence a few consecutive days off without telling him why, and books a room at a hotel -- not The hotel, but at least an actual hotel, not a cheapass hostel -- in Banff.

It's a risk, keeping it a surprise -- not just because Brendon is acting more hyper than usual and may spill the beans at any time, but also because he's not sure how Spencer will react. It's a bit... presumptuous. (Not that Jon is presuming. He may be _hoping_, but that's altogether different.) Jon manages it, though, and doesn't say anything till the night before when he's dropping Spencer off at his apartment after work. "Hey," he says, not leaning in for the kiss Spencer is pretty obviously expecting. "Want to go away together?"

"Uh, maybe. When? And where?"

Jon bites his lip for a second. Yeah, the surprise thing was a mistake; he's feeling pretty nervous. "I was thinking... I was thinking we could go to Banff. Tomorrow."

Spencer's eyebrows shoot up. "Um, what? _Tomorrow_?"

Yeah. Mistake. "Only if you want to?"

"Jon Walker," Spencer says. He doesn't sound mad. "You totally planned this, didn't you? I never get three days off in a row."

"I just thought," Jon starts awkwardly. "I wanted you to see the mountains."

There's a second where Spencer doesn't move, and Jon worries again that he's fucked things up royally. But then Spencer reaches out, deliberately fists a hand in Jon's shirt, and pulls him in to kiss him for_ever_.

"Okay," Spencer says when he finally leans back. "I should go pack."

Jon feels that his grin probably looks pretty dumb, but he can't make it stop. "I'll pick you up at nine. Oh, and Spencer-" he calls through the open window, "pack swimming trunks as well."

Spencer just stares at him, and opens his mouth as if he's going to argue, and Jon just says "Hey, if anyone should get to ogle you in shorts it's me, right?" and Spencer tries to look stubborn, he does, but they both know he's going to cave, and Jon wants to take him _away_, so really, he doesn't need to get all prissy. And, on reflection, geez does he ever have to work on not having an inner Ryan Ross for these kinds of occasions. The actual one is going to be enough to live with.

Spencer does not want to admit that he's kind of nervous, and he doesn't really get all that much sleep. It's not that he's scared, it's just- even if nothing happens, going away together, that's kind of a big step, that's a really couple-y step, and he's never done that with anyone he was dating yet, and if maybe he packs and repacks his bags four times, and makes Ryan get up at 7am to help him, well, that's just between him and his four walls.

Of course, what that means is by the time Jon picks him up - five past nine, which is pretty much exactly on time in Jon-world, Spencer is both tired and desperately in need of coffee. Jon, of course, is way ahead of him. He presses a hot travel mug into Spencer's hands in exchange for the over-filled backpack he's holding, tosses that into the trunk, and then waits, more or less patiently, for Spencer to down at least a third of his latte before leaning in for a good morning kiss.

(Ryan tells them to have fun and very carefully does _not_ tell them how sickeningly adorable they are. He does text Brendon, though, because Brendon has been pinging him hourly for updates on the great Spencer and Jon Holiday Romance Adventure since last night. Ryan's kind of wishing that someone would take _Brendon_ away for the weekend. He doesn't think too much about that, though, because that way lie... slightly uncomfortable thoughts he doesn't really feel like entertaining right then and there.)

Spencer curls into the passenger seat and lets himself half-doze as Jon threads their way through quiet suburban streets onto the highway. He makes pseudo-interested noises when Jon bothers to play tour guide and points out the ski jump from the Olympics, and he wakes up enough to ask if they have to worry about deer ("Or moose! Mooses?" he adds, scandalised and a little suspicious) on the roads, and Jon just pats his leg and tells him not to worry his pretty little head.

Spencer sticks a song he knows Jon is not so fond of on repeat for twenty minutes on the stereo as his petty revenge, although that backfires a little when Jon then refuses to stop for coffee again ("It's like an hour away, Spence, you can get more there. Unless you need to use the little boys room?" and Spencer just sticks his tongue out and says "Bite me, Jon Walker," and Jon says mildly "Planning on it," and Spencer nearly swallows his tongue, forgets all about coffee, and basically has to sit on his hands to stop himself fidgeting the entire rest of the way there, or worse, grabbing Jon while he's driving).

They check into their hotel to leave their bags, and Spencer bites his tongue for entirely different reasons at the front desk, and again when they walk into their room - it's clean, and fairly modest, a tiny bathroom attached to a room with a tv, a fridge, a couple of armchairs and a queen-sized bed; but it still has to be costing Jon a lot more than Spencer likes to think about. Maybe more than he's really comfortable with.

"Jon," he starts, as the door clicks shut behind them and Spencer drops his bag onto one of the chairs, glancing out the window - and god, that's pretty, the mountains framing the town around them - and then toes the carpet, not sure how to ask.

"Hey, hey, Spencer," Jon says, and god, he's so good at this, reads Spencer so well, because he's dumped his own bag and is slipping his arms around Spencer from behind, chin resting on his shoulder so his voice is warm against his ear, sensation matching tone, "really, it's fine. I have some savings, you know?"

"But," Spencer says again, and makes a hand gesture that's meant to encompass 'all of this?' and 'for me?', and Jon just shakes his head, Spencer can feel him move, and says, "No, it's- this is _with_ you, Spencer, not 'for' you. So I do a couple of extra shifts next month to make it up again, that's fine. You're worth it, and I like treating you. You can do something next time, if that would make you feel better about it," and Jon is so clearly trying not to sound a little uncertain, like he's worried he's taking them for granted, but Spencer knows that nothing here is going to change _that_, and so he makes a little noise of acceptance in the back of his throat, lets the last bit of tension fall from his shoulders, and squirms around to kiss Jon properly.

"I'm gonna hold you to that," he says, and leans in to kiss Jon a little more, "seriously, you have to let me pay for- for dinner, or something," and Jon gives him the crooked evil little smile that Spencer loves best and says "I don't think that's all you're holding me to, Spencer Smith," and while Spencer is firmly ordering himself to _not blush_, Jon just grins and untangles them a little, though he doesn't let go of Spencer's hand, tugs him towards the door and says, "come on, let's go exploring first."

They walk around the town for a couple of hours - Jon buys Spencer coffee, as promised, and then threatens to buy him ridiculous tourist junk from one of the many shops catering to every man's desire for an Inukshuk of his own, or a moose with a Santa hat, or maple leaf engraved golf balls, or a stuffed beaver. Spencer makes a particularly disgusted face at that last one, and Jon takes one look at him and has to leave the store, he's laughing so hard, and Spencer follows him out and waits while Jon catches his breath, leaning against the brick-walled facade, gasping around the little snickers he still can't get under control, and he's pink in the face and suspiciously wet around the eyes, and Spencer loses what little patience he had left (seriously, not enough sleep, he can't be held entirely accountable) and says, more fiercely than he meant, "What?" and Jon, luckily, doesn't take offence, but he does straighten up and get himself under control a bit better, and just says, "Your _face_, Spencer, and then I nearly- in front of the little old ladies buying presents for their grand-kids, I nearly said it wasn't exactly _either_ of our taste, was it, and-" he's biting his lip again, but it's a losing battle, because he's snickering again, not quite so manically as before, and this time Spencer is laughing with him because, okay, yeah, it is pretty funny.

And kind of true.

Spencer buys them lunch, fish and chips, ("Fish and chips? In the mountains?" he says dubiously, and Jon waves an indulgent hand behind his back and says "There's a lake," and then distracts Spencer by nudging at his ankle with his toes, because of course Jon is in his usual flip-flops - Spencer has no idea how he can walk around in those things, there's no ankle support or anything), and then Jon drags him back to the hotel to grab a bag and- "Towels?"

Spencer narrows his eyes and blocks the bathroom door, waiting.

Jon gives him his best charming look - Spencer does not cave - well, okay, maybe a little - and says, "There's hot springs, I thought it might be fun?"

Spencer is theoretically in favour of soaking in hot water for as long as he can, and he's definitely in favour of Jon wearing trunks (and Jon's trunks, from what he can see of the bag Jon's packing, are _hilarious_; four colours that definitely don't match in a pattern even Ryan wouldn't approve of), he's just- not so sure he wants Jon to see him. Then again, if this trip goes how Spencer's hoping, odds are pretty good Jon's going to see him in a lot less, he just kind of wanted to... work up to it a little. Which this could be, he figures, and tells himself to stop worrying, just handing off his own - plain black, thank you very much - trunks to Jon to shove into his backpack, and smiling at him. Jon looks pleased, and takes his hand again as they walk back to the car. He checks the signposts at each intersection carefully, and it's really not all that much longer until they're turning into the carpark by the springs, walking through to pay and being pointed towards the changing rooms.

The changing rooms are clean and modern-looking, and pleasantly dry underfoot for somewhere that has dripping wet people clomping through regularly - they must spend forever mopping the place up or have really awesome tiling, Spencer thinks, but all of that is pretty much panicked surface thoughts to cover for the fact that, like most places, the changing rooms are also pretty damn open. As in, filled with a whole lot of guys getting changed with no more consideration than they would have before or after gym class.

He and Jon just grin at each other, and change quickly, keeping to the guy code and acting as if they're blind to everything outside a two inch radius of their own hands. Spencer is acutely aware that Jon is standing right by him, _naked_, and tries not to think about that too much (could be unfortunate, which in and of itself is enough to put him off), and he's very, very good and doesn't even sneak a peek. He does turn round maybe a little too fast and gets a tiny glimpse of the upper curve of Jon's ass, trunks settling over his hip as Spencer hurriedly shifts his pose to eyes-front and bites his tongue, but there's really nothing too risque about that. There's a little smile hovering around Jon's eyes that makes Spencer think that Jon's just as aware that he did look, but he doesn't say anything, just strides off to the biggest pool, and dives cleanly in. Spencer takes a careful look at the signs, at the hordes of kids playing and shrieking just down from them, and makes a calculated bomb-dive right beside Jon, splashing a veritable bow-wave of water right over him and plastering the stubborn cowlick at the front of his hair even flatter. Jon just makes a face but saves his revenge for later, rolling right over to float on his back, and making pleased noises as the hot water - and god, it must be like ninety degrees, Spencer can feel sweat beginning to prickle along his hairline already - laps over his shoulders and supports him.

"You're as bad as Dylan," Spencer accuses, treading water and, okay, yeah, appreciating Jon's bare chest and admittedly-hairy calves, and avoiding the combined fashion disaster and temptation zone between waist and knee.

"I like to be warm," Jon says lazily, rippling his fingers through the water to send a tiny wave at Spencer.

"You live in Canada," Spencer reminds him, not for the first time that week, even.

"Which is where we are now," Jon says, "and it is warm. I rest my case."

Spencer just sighs and floats onto his back as well, feeling the water rush backwards and forwards into his ears, breaking up the sound of other people's conversations, the kids giggling and shrieking so that they go alternately gluggy and clear. It is pretty nice, like this, and with his face just out of the water the breeze is nice and cool against warm skin. Too-warm skin, that is, as the currents in the pool bump first his feet and then his hip into Jon's.

"Hi," he says, and realises he sounds just as lazy as Jon had. This was pretty much an excellent idea, yeah.

"Hi," Jon says back, and turns his face to try and kiss Spencer lightly.

He overbalances, of course - there's no way probably anyone but, like, a professional synchronised swimmer could have pulled that off, Spencer thinks, and even then, maybe not, and when he's flailing around to try and stop his head going under he manages to catch Spencer and dunk him, too, and they come up for air spluttering and laughing, and Spencer's toes just barely touch the bottom of the pool as he catches them both, winding his arms around Jon, skin smooth and elusive in the water, slippery-eager, and even though it's very, very public, he can't quite talk himself down from one lingering kiss.

That kiss turns into a second, and Jon's arms are hooked over Spencer's shoulders, elbows parallel with his collarbones as the kiss deepens, and then Jon is pushing him to the side, knees knocking as he half-kicks, half bounces in an awkward water-borne walk, and they slide neatly into the overhanging side of the pool, Spencer's head resting against the tile and Jon's hands holding them in place while their mouths move, lips catching and pressing, sharing breath that feels hotter again, even, than the water. Spencer figures it's probably a good thing he's got his arms around Jon's neck, now, because he has a feeling that if there was even the slightest suggestion that his hands were- anywhere else, right now- they'd get kicked out. This kiss is so overwhelming, has such intent that Spencer feels like there just about could be neon overheard signposting what they want to do. What they're _going_ to do.

He shoves that thought, those imaginings ruthlessly aside and focuses on Jon's mouth, chasing the taste of him back and forth, teeth scraping lightly over his upper lip.

Jon pulls away at last, dark head close to Spencer's own while he breathes, fast and ragged, and Spencer feels like he's run a half-marathon himself, and it can't all be the elevation, and Jon's still plastered right up against him, although in the hot water he feels almost cool, and- and two sets of swimming trunks are, frankly, hiding nothing.

"Fuck," Spencer breathes - whines, really, against Jon's shoulder, letting his knees unlock so he sinks a little more in the water.

"No kidding," Jon says, and laughs weakly, "god, Spencer, I didn't plan that, I swear."

"I believe you," Spencer says, and runs a fond hand over Jon's head, brushing wet bangs out of his eyes and then doing the same for himself. God, it might be mineral water but it's still damn annoying when it's dripping in his eyes. "Um. Should we, uh, head out?"

"I have a better idea," Jon says, bright smile rivalling the mid-afternoon sun for a second, "wait here," and then he's swimming across to the steps at the top of the pool, and clearly he has superior self-control to Spencer, because as he walks out, Spencer can't even tell that two minutes ago he was clinging to him, flustered and needy, and damn, okay, maybe there is something in that 'two years older' business after all.

Spencer treads water, and turns a couple of somersaults for the hell of it, and then a nerf ball is bouncing off his head as he surfaces, and he glares at an unrepentant Jon, standing on the side of the pool with a towel around his waist, and a second one in his hand,

"Hey, grab that key," Jon tells him, and Spencer realises there's a key - big, old-fashioned looking brass - tied onto the nerf ball - which is clearly meant to keep it afloat in these types of situations, so he sweeps it up, tosses it into Jon's cupped hands and then clambers almost gracefully out of the pool, taking the towel Jon offers him with gratitude.

"What's the key?" he asks, and Jon's smile is pure, pure wickedness as he walks towards one of the buildings on the opposite side of the pool area to the changing rooms, and he says, as he unlocks what looks like a stereotypical log cabin in a row of identical ones, "Private hot tub," and Spencer swallows, hard.

Jon locks the door behind them again and waits until Spencer's in the hot tub before dropping his towel onto the little table and stepping in himself. He gives Spencer about thirty seconds to start relaxing, with the water lapping around his neck as he slides down a little in the tub, back curving away from the sides as he stretches his legs out into the deeper part in the middle, the fabric of his trunks riding up a little as it catches on the bench-seat, and he smiles lazily, enjoying the hotter water as much as the privacy. "Good idea," he says, and his voice echoes oddly in the wooden building, seeming to catch on the steam rising around them.

"I've got a better one," Jon says, and then he's crawling into Spencer's lap and nuzzling at his jaw, licking at the fine sheen of sweat on his neck - which should be gross, but instead is crazy-hot, and Spencer maybe whimpers a little, and doesn't bother to choke it back this time.

Jon squirms around, knees clamped either side of Spencer's thighs to stop himself floating off and from that vantage point, he can't help but to grind into Spencer a little, too, and Spencer is just dizzy with the combination of heat and arousal, and it's entirely possible he might forget how to breathe, especially since Jon is rubbing a hand down Spencer's chest, palm flat against his belly, thumb circling the dip of his navel before tucking his fingertips in, pressing into Spencer's skin. Especially since Jon doesn't stop there this time, but slips his fingers even further down - Spencer makes what is, actually, an incredibly embarrassing noise, but he can't bring himself to care because Jon's wrist is curved hot against Spencer's stomach, trapped between their bodies, Jon's hand is sliding into his shorts, and if Spencer isn't careful he's pretty sure he's going to embarrass himself, because, Jesus, Jon's hand is _on his dick_.

"Jon, Jon," Spencer starts, not precisely whining, "we shouldn't really- oh, God, seriously, this is not the place."

Jon's fingers tighten a little on him, and Spencer completely loses the battle to keep his hips from shifting, moving up and into Jon's grip. "Why not?" Jon asks easily, mouthing at the curve of his jaw, and Spencer thinks wildly that he always knew it was going to be good, but he hadn't realized quite how good, and it's entirely possible he might actually melt. Or combust.

"God, Jon, if you keep doing that, I'm- fuck, _Jon_." Spencer lets his head fall backwards onto the ledge behind him, rapidly losing interest in being a socially responsible citizen because, wow, yeah, Jon is really, really good with his hands.

Of course, that's the point at which Jon sits up a little straighter, hand stilling and Spencer tries not to swear. "What's that, Spencer?" His gaze is steady, an amused light in the deep brown of his eyes. "Worried about making a mess?"

Spencer makes an inarticulate noise and tries to lean in and kiss Jon again, encouraging him to keep going. Jon, stubbornly, does not.

"I can help you out there, you know," Jon says, and god, Spencer can't believe how composed he sounds, and it's not like he's not just as turned on as Spencer, because Spencer can sure as hell feel Jon hard against him, hot against his stomach.

"Mmm?" Spencer says, pretending (badly) that he's not about to lose his mind and start begging if Jon doesn't do something.

And he thinks for a second it was a mistake, because Jon's pushing himself up and out of Spencer's lap, standing chest-deep in the hot water, and Spencer only gets the first syllable of "What-?" out before Jon's hands are settling onto his hips, tugging him up, pushing him back, and understanding hits in a sudden flash. Spencer tucks his feet under himself, half-stands and shuffles back until he's perched on the side of the ledge, looking down at Jon.

Jon paddles forward, settling onto his knees on the bench, face level with Spencer's stomach, and reaches forward to hook his thumbs under the waistband of Spencer's trunks, drawing them down. Spencer shifts a little, lifting himself up to help, and holds his breath as the reality of what they're doing hits him, because there they are, and he's effectively naked in front of Jon, shorts caught just above his knees, and Jon's petting at his hip, whispering "Hey, relax,". His hands are on Spencer's legs, holding him still and down and steam is rising around them, and Jon is ducking his head down to lick at the head of Spencer's dick, and as his lips close around Spencer, the way that Jon is planning to avoid making a mess hits him with one visceral punch.

Spencer has to hold on to the sides of the tub to stop himself from slipping forward, from pushing up into Jon's mouth, and he knows he's panting, breathing loud and fast. Jon's mouth is just so good, all hot and tight around his cock, sliding over slick skin. He wants to get his hands into Jon's hair, he always likes to play with it, and Jon makes the best noises when he tugs on it a little, too, and Spencer has a feeling that that activity might combine really, really well with what Jon's doing now, but he doesn't quite think he has the coordination left to try that right then and there.

Jon's thumbs are stroking along the crease between his hip and thigh, and Spencer feels like his skin has gone taut and too-thin all over, he doesn't remember it being so sensitive, and Jon is still alternating between sucking and licking at his dick, mouth moving wetly, and Spencer has to groan just a little, a half-warning. He's so close, muscles locking up across shoulders and back as his stomach tightens, the jittering pressure of potential heat starting to build past where he can handle it, little flickers of reaction making him tremble under Jon's touch.

"Jon, fuck, oh fuck, please," he murmurs, uncomfortably aware of how his bare ass is sliding a little on the slippery marble rim of the tub, shifting helplessly with every movement of Jon's mouth. Jon just presses himself closer, and Spencer's eyes close without his conscious permission and his whole spine seems to lock up for a heartbeat before he's coming hard, and he fights his eyelids open again just in time to see Jon's throat working as he swallows, and it's so ridiculously hot that his hips stutter a little in reaction, all he can manage as he slumps forward, going limp.

Jon pulls him back down into the hot tub once his breathing calms down a little more, gently sliding his trunks back up his legs and on, hands lingering a little on the curve of his ass, and Spencer just clings at him, pressing open-mouthed kisses into the side of Jon's neck.

"Can I," he begins to say, when he thinks his heart rate has actually returned to something approximating normal, and reaches for Jon's hip, fingertips sneaking under his waistband without really waiting for permission. Jon's hand covers his, holding him still, and there's actually a little bit of strain visible in Jon's expression now as he takes a deep breath.

"You don't- oh God, Spence, it's probably safer if you don't. We should probably- do you want to go back to the hotel now?"

And Spencer, with a lapful of somewhat desperately turned-on Jon Walker, does the only thing he can.

He pulls back and steps dripping out of the tub, wrapping himself tightly in a towel and ignoring the way his legs want to shake a little still, and says "Yes. Please."

Jon drives _fast_.

* * *

Spencer tries to look casual as they walk back through the lobby and up to their room. He's embarrassingly certain that the girl on reception took one look at the two of them walking-not-very-slowly towards their room with wet hair and stupid smiles all over their faces and knew exactly what was going on, but he's doing his best not to care. He's totally grown up and allowed to have sex with his boyfriend in a hotel room in the middle of the afternoon if he wants to.

And, fuck, does he ever want to.

Jon dumps the bag with their towels and wet trunks balled up inside it onto the floor just inside the door, kicks off his shoes right by it (so, okay, the flip-flops have some advantages), and doesn't waste a second in crowding Spencer up against the foot of the bed. His hands are gentle, landing lightly on Spencer's shoulders as he leans in to kiss him again, and Spencer bites his own lip before opening his mouth to Jon, trying to stop mentally replaying the blow-job in the hot tub long enough to figure out what to with his own hands now that they've got all the time and privacy they could want.

He has to wriggle awkwardly between Jon and the bed to toe his own shoes off, but manages to do it without taking his hands or mouth off Jon, which is probably the best outcome he could've hoped for. Jon's hands are restless on his back and sides, moving in broad arcs and not settling for longer than a second. Spencer has no idea how Jon managed to wait and then drive to get them back, but he's grateful, and he figures it's more than time to start demonstrating that. "Come on," he murmurs against Jon's lips, and tugs in demonstration at the hem of Jon's shirt. Jon gets the message right away and takes one step back, pulling his shirt over his head in one easy motion, and dropping his hands to the fastening of his jeans - neither of them had bothered with a belt in the changing rooms - and yanks the button open and the zipper down with nothing even approaching finesse. Spencer's kind of looking forward to undressing him later himself, but this is faster and he's more than happy with that given that it feels like it's only thirty seconds later that Jon's standing in front of him wearing nothing more than loose plaid boxers, which are kind of sticking to his skin a little, both because neither of them dried off particularly thoroughly, and because he's clearly, obviously, well and truly turned on. Spencer's mouth goes a little dry, to be honest.

"Spencer," Jon whines, and nudges his hips against him, and Spencer swallows hard, because, right, he's actually got more to do here than stare at Jon being all hot and semi-naked, and starts stripping as well. Jon's practically vibrating against him - in fact, he's looking like nothing more than Dylan when she's stalking a bird through the windows of Jon's apartment, all quivering energy and potential, and Spencer doesn't do more than breathe out audibly when Jon breaks and does pounce, half-shoving him back into the soft mattress when Spencer's got his jeans hanging off one ankle and his shirt barely on the floor. Spencer wriggles and kicks his jeans off (and hopes that neither of them stand on his phone in the pocket later), but mostly he's got his attention filled with the armful of Jon Walker, laid out full length on top of him, nipping at his collarbone and panting.

"Spencer, fuck," Jon says, and his voice is raw and it's doing astounding things to Spencer's heart rate, "Oh god, this was going to be so much classier, I swear," but he's nuzzling at Spencer's neck and practically squirming, and Spencer couldn't care less about classy or romantic, or anything else Jon had apparently been planning, he just wants.

He manages to stop touching Jon's bare skin long enough to curl his thumbs under the waistband of Jon's boxers, tugging down. That's not terribly successful on its own - Jon is pressed so tightly against him, and his arms are only so long anyway, and so he only really works the elastic down to Jon's hips, the fabric still caught between their bodies. Then his hands get kind of distracted - and it's totally his hands, Spencer has no conscious control over them, he'd swear to it - with the newly accessible curve of Jon's ass, palms pressed firm against warm skin, holding Jon close.

Jon shudders on top of him and stops leaving beard burn under his jaw long enough to raise himself up on his elbows and look at Spencer directly, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

"Good as that feels, Spence, we should maybe try to, to do the smart thing, right?"

Spencer's fairly certain that very little of his actual blood supply is actually making it up to his brain right now, and the way he just stares back at Jon and waits for him to keep talking must communicate that, because Jon laughs - low and sexy and not at all his usual near-giggle - and says, "We need to get naked, Spencer," and Spencer thinks "Of course, right," and peels his fingers off Jon's backside, biting his own lip in a (probably futile) effort to clear his head at least a tiny bit.

Jon rolls off him and wiggles his boxers off his hips and down his thighs with an economy of motion that Spencer has to admire. He blinks and reminds himself not to stare at Jon, the winter-pale slope of his belly shading into darker whorls of hair, the way his fingers curl loosely around his cock once his underwear is off and hitting the floor, an impatient touch as he waits for Spencer. In turn, Spencer wriggles out of his own boxers, with what he suspects is considerably less grace, and then there they are, both completely naked, stretched out on the bed and watching each other.

Spencer shifts a little on the sheets, the cotton feeling rougher than it ought to against bare skin, and wishes Jon was on top of him again, that he wasn't taking an entirely unwanted moment free of that immediate blood-hot distraction to think about stupid things like whether he can do this right or what Jon's going to think of him, and that's when he notices that, in fact, the air conditioner must've been running and the room is most certainly chillier than it should be. Goose-pimples prickle up along his arms and stomach, and he has a moment to think, "Seriously? Oh, for fuckssake," and then he's meeting Jon's eyes again, and somehow, remarkably, they're both laughing; at the sudden and unexpected awkwardness, at the rush of unwelcome cool air on over-heated bodies, at themselves.

"This is easy, honest," Jon says quietly, and then he shifts so that he's on top of Spencer again, pressing into him in all the right places, and Spencer forgets abruptly about the temperature and the picture they're making, just lets his hands slide down to cup Jon's hips and arches up into him.

They kiss again, then, soft and lingering, but there's an edge that's never been there before, the scalding awareness that is Spencer's hand moving between their bodies, wrist tilting at an unfamiliar angle to wrap around Jon's dick, echoing the way he'd touched himself earlier, just more pressure and more speed. Jon bites off a muffled curse and drops his head onto Spencer's shoulder, hips moving restlessly, the head of his cock dragging against Spencer's thigh as Spencer's hand moves, increasingly confident.

"Good?" Spencer asks, voice low, hardly pitched above the soft sounds of skin on skin, and Jon nods frantically, almost hitting his head into Spencer's jaw as he does so.

"Yes, god, yeah, just- fuck, I could- I could come like this, Spence, so easy, I want-" and Jon lifts up, a little, gets his thumb on the pulse-point between the bones in Spencer's wrist and moves his hand away, before letting himself fall back into him. His hips shift restlessly as he rubs himself off against Spencer's body, making helpless little grunts as his body shifts and yearns, and Spencer trails a hand over the bumps of his spine, nape to ass and back up again, over and over, breathless with how hot Jon is, how simple it is to be with him, to be what drives him this crazy.

Jon shudders again a few minutes later, coming over Spencer's belly, and it's sticky and warm and probably shouldn't turn him on as much as it does, but sheesh. Jon won't meet his eyes for another few seconds after that, shoulders heaving as he takes deep breaths, calming down.

"Thanks," Jon starts, and when Spencer starts to say that, really, it was his pleasure, Jon keeps going, "No, thank you, that was so good, except normally I kind of like to get the guy I'm sleeping with off as well, so-"

"You went down on me in the hot tub," Spencer feels bound to point out, but Jon just snuggles into his chest more, the very picture of lassitude, and replies as if it's an actual point that follows logically, "So I was thinking, if you want, you could fuck me now?"

Spencer maybe greys out a little.

He blinks hard, scrambling for some semblance of self-control to respond to Jon with, but Jon is looking up at him, his whole body shaking slightly with laughter, and Spencer is a little more gruff than he means to be when he says, "What?"

Jon scoots off him at last, making a face as their skin sticks a little, and lies on his side, just barely touching Spencer, his free hand petting his hip.

"You know, people who actually pass out talking about it don't get to have sex," Jon says conversationally, and Spencer glares at him. "No, I'm serious. It's like a health and safety issue. Plus, unconscious people? That's just not cool. And look what happened to Buffy, right?"

"Oh my god," Spencer groans, hiding his face under his forearm and trying to forget just how badly he wants to, well, do everything with Jon. "You are not funny."

"Who's being funny?" Jon asks innocently, and Spencer just knows he's grinning. It's all very well for some people, like ones who've actually got to have an orgasm in the last twenty minutes and therefore are capable of rational thought and utterly unfair mocking. "It's a valid concern, Spence. I don't want you passing out on me from- manly hunger, or something."

"You know," Spencer says, cracking one eye open to stare dolefully at Jon's laughing expression, "there's a horrible joke I could be making here about protein," and he stretches out as if to run his fingers through the mess on his stomach, and Jon's expression shifts from lazy amusement to blatant lust in less than an eyeblink. Spencer freezes, not really sure what to do.

"Kind of not really safe," Jon reminds him, voice husky and unconvincing, and he bites his lip while he stares at Spencer.

Spencer swallows hard. "You know I'm-" his voice doesn't wobble at all, thank god, but he definitely does go a little pink in the cheeks, "I'm clean. Something you need to tell me?"

Jon shakes his head. "I just like to be careful." He pauses a second, and then goes on, choosing his words deliberately. "I want to be careful with you, Spence," and Spencer feels a tiny rush of irritation, because damnit, he's not going to break if Jon doesn't handle him carefully. He tells himself it's not that Jon's doubting them, and it's easier than he would've thought it would be to believe that. It's a little uncomfortable to think about, sure, but he knows Jon is nuts about him, is as crazy as he is about Jon, he's just- trying to be responsible. (Frankly, Spencer would rather get back to having sex than thinking about it. This is just awkward.)

"This is awkward," he says finally, and Jon nods and looks abashed. "I sort of killed the mood, huh?"

"It was sweet," Spencer says, which isn't exactly disagreeing, and Jon clearly gets that, because he makes a face and shoves at Spencer's shoulder.

"Bite me," he says peaceable, and Spencer, who isn't stupid, says "Okay," and does just that.

The kissing goes on for quite a while this time, less rushed, and even though Spencer is still hard, has been almost since they walked in the door, the sense of urgency has receded along with whatever nerves he'd been feeling.

"I was actually serious about you fucking me," Jon says, three or five or seventeen minutes later, and Spencer just says, "Yes, please," and holds out his hand for the lube and condoms which Jon has fished from off the bedside table. He lets one hand anchor at the very base of Jon's spine, thumb pressing hard into the dip there, index finger stroking lightly down, enjoying the way Jon shivers in broken sharp little motions at the touch.

The first finger slips into Jon's body more easily than Spencer would've dared to imagine, and the noises Jon makes as he adds a second, and then gradually, later, a third are worth the entire price of this trip alone. Spencer moves carefully, stretching him, exploring, doing his best to memorise the sensation, trying not to imagine what it's going to feel like when it's his dick and not just his fingers.

"'m not gonna break," Jon says thickly, and his hips are shifting restlessly now as he arches back into Spencer's touch, demanding, and Spencer can't say no. Jon is even more pliable than normal in this state, and Spencer shifts them both around until they're comfortable, waits till Jon says, "Yeah, that's good, that'll work, please, now," and Spencer moves, lets his hands bracket Jon's hips, and then he's inside him, and a whole lot of really overblown prose about "hot" and "tight" and "oh Jesus fucking Christ" suddenly makes a lot more immediate sense.

"Oh god," Spencer says, and leans in to kiss Jon, hard and fast, and then Jon bites at his lip and says "Spencer," kind of desperately, which Spencer translates as "move, please," and does, which seems to be the right approach. Jon's eyes flutter closed and he's moving with Spencer, making encouraging little noises that are mostly breathy vowel sounds, hands clenching tight into the sheets, pulling them out of shape.

It feels good, so good, and Spencer kind of thinks that if he's not careful his eyes are going to cross from the sheer pleasure overload, and then they're going to stick that way (and no one wants a cross-eyed drummer, that's not even remotely badass), and then Jon does something, rolling his hips up a little as his body tightens around Spencer. Spencer makes an embarrassing sound of his own and clutches harder at Jon, vaguely feeling like he wants to make sure Jon comes first or something, and oh, right, he can actually help with that, can't he, so he wraps one hand loosely around Jon's dick and jerks him off, finding a rhythm fast, so that Jon is whining under him, shaking apart, and Spencer lasts an entirely respectable minute and a half longer before coming himself, making one last breathless choked sound into Jon's shoulder as he does.

They pull apart slowly, carefully, and make a cursory effort to clean up, but neither of them has really got the energy left to make it to the shower right then anyway, and so instead Spencer just reaches down to pull the blankets over them, curling into Jon's warmth.

"You're gonna bitch so much when we wake up," Jon murmurs, running blunt nails lightly across Spencer's shoulder blades, aimless circles. "We're kind of messy."

Spencer just mumbles something indistinct in response, and tucks his face more emphatically into the pillow. "'s all right," he says, a second later with sleepy satisfaction, tucking the blanket right up under his chin and his palm under Jon's hip, "I just smell like you."

As vacations go, Spencer is more than happy with this one.

* * *

Claire: ... I bet Ryan and Jon steal road cones when they're high one day and then Spencer lectures Jon on how disappointed he is in his changing attitudes towards road safety, and he's trying to sound stern and disapproving but it's really hard to do when Jon's all slithering off the couch to grab at Spencer's hips and lean in to nuzzle his head against Spencer's thigh so he can look up at him and give him the high-powered puppy eyes because Jon kind of finds Spencer being grumpy or stern (or just faking it) stupidly hot and he's not above dragging Spencer down with him.  
Kat: And Spencer almost wishes that Jon and Ryan were still kind of wary of each other, because them being friends = THEM DOING STUPID SHIT.  
Claire: And while sometimes that's entertaining, mostly, other times he kind of actually does want to just whap them both upside the head. Besides, Ryan keeps dragging Jon off to talk about music or run over melody lines with him, and that's fine, Spencer is totally on board with them writing together (especially since eventually they might be able to do something awesome with a band - because he's heard Brendon singing, and once Ryan gets over dancing around him like an- a something with a sore foot, seriously, he's not the lyrics guy, whatever - then he is so pushing for Brendon to come in for vocals), but anyway, as good as that is and as understanding and considerate a boyfriend as Spencer is, sometimes he really really just needs Jon for important sex purposes. Frankly, as his best friend Ryan could stand to be a little more sympathetic.

 

* * *

Jon prods Spencer awake, early and abruptly, one morning in July. Spencer flails and buries his face in the pillow. Jon is undeterred. "Wake up, sleepyhead," he says cheerfully.

"Fuck off," Spencer tries to say, somewhat muffled by the pillow. Possibly he shouldn't – sleepovers are still new for him and Jon – but it's better that Jon learn sooner, rather than later, that Spencer Smith and mornings are not on good terms.

Jon is, however, remarkably tolerant of Spencer at his bitchiest. "Spence," he says, poking at Spencer's shoulder again. "Spence, seriously, get up. There is coffee in the kitchen, and travel mugs, and we are going out to get free pancakes because you have been missing out all your life and you don't even know it."

"Mrrrh," Spencer says into the pillow.

"And," Jon continues, "I will make it up to you later."

Spencer raises his head and blinks at Jon. "Promise me that you don't think breakfast foods, free or not, count as making it up to me."

"I promise," Jon says. Spencer gets up.

* * *

Spencer's still used to Vegas weather, because it feels totally normal and temperate to him, but Jon's sweating and looks uncomfortable. They bump shoulders as they stand in a mall parking lot, in a lineup with a hundred strangers. "You're the one who wanted to come," Spencer says, pitching his voice so Jon can hear him over the mediocre country band on the makeshift stage.

"It's tradition," Jon says. "You can't understand Calgary until you understand Stampede breakfasts."

Spencer doesn't understand a place that basically shuts down for a week every year so that people can party and wear cowboy hats – and eat free pancakes – but he wants to understand Jon better.

They get cheap paper plates of mass-produced pancakes and fake maple syrup, and don't even try to find a spot at the tables but go sit on the curb of the sidewalk, as far away from the band as they can get. "What do you think?" Jon asks.

"The pancakes are crap," Spencer says around a mouthful.

"No, I mean –" Jon makes a sweeping sort of gesture, mindful of the plate balanced on his knees.

"It's-" It's too early, yes, but it's also… kind of nice, this huge group of people, laughing and having fun and apparently not caring that it's cheesy as hell. "I see why you wanted to come," Spencer says.

Jon grins at him. "Now you can be a real Calgarian," he says, grinning.

That's never really been one of Spencer's ambitions, to belong in the place Ryan had blindly pointed to on a map ("I'm just going to leave," Ryan had said late one night when they were in high school, "pick the most random place I can think of and – leave," and Spencer didn't care where they ended up, just knew he couldn't let Ryan off loose into the world without a keeper), but he's here now and it's… kind of nice. Yeah. He leans into Jon's side for a quick moment and steals the last bite of pancake.

***

Kat: Oh. my. god. I just realised what I want, which is Jon and Brendon tagging along with a bunch of bookstore people to karaoke and awesomeness ensuing.  
Claire: That could be how Spencer gets to hear Brendon sing. And Ryan is just so, so sunk, because oh god, Brendon is adorable and kind of funny and he plays, like, five million instruments apparently and he has the prettiest eyes and Ryan is just- so screwed. It's so not fair.  
Kat: Spencer will go to hang out but completely refuses to sing, except for how he sings along while other people are up there. And Brendon sings Don't Stop Believing because it's a law that someone has to, every time there's karaoke. And Gabe sings Gwen Stefani! Oh, and Jon would sing Counting Crows, and Spencer would fall just a little bit more. And it's not like he thinks Jon has the best voice there (hello, Brendon, and Gabe, and Greta), but he looks so fucking adorable and earnest and keeps looking at Spencer and giving him this smile that's kind of -- private, despite him being at the mic.  
Claire: OMG WHAT WOULD GABE SING.  
Kat: HOLLABACK GIRL OBVIOUSLY  
Claire: He can sing multiple things, though. the apt of luuuv suggests Like A Virgin or some other 80s Madonna.  
Kat: Would anyone sing Spice Girls? I fucking love singing Spice Girls.  
Claire: God, I want RYAN to. Or BRENDON TO DRAG RYAN UP. TO SING WANNABE. while Ryan DIES ON THE SPOT. and Spencer does too but for ENTIRELY DIFFERENT REASONS.  
Oh god, please tell me Jon and Spencer have inappropriate bathroom make-outs. And then they think someone's about to walk in so they spring apart all guilty-like and then go out to the corridor because, seriously, they really shouldn't do that there, and as a result, are the only people to see Brendon and Ryan's first actual kiss. (Ryan starts it, and both he and Brendon are kind of shocked by this later, but they're alone and Brendon won't stop talking and he has that mouth and Ryan just- can't remember why this was a bad idea anymore, because, god, Brendon feels so good all stumbling back against the wall and panting and staring wide-eyed at Ryan and touching his lower lip lightly with his thumb as if he can't believe it actually just happened.)

 

* * *

And then there's how Jon writes little songs for Spencer, or about him (he does one about "tiny slanty-hipped book-shelving sexy drummer guy" to the tune from Once, this one time, and Spencer isn't quite sure whether he's flattered or MORTIFIED), and he keeps just saying they're silly, but Ryan's been saving some of them quietly, because there's potential there. Then Jon takes to humming Broken-Hearted Hoover Fixer Sucker Guy at work, with this huge grin on his face, and Spencer just goes red every time he hears it and has to go hide on the counters.

* * *

Spencer refuses to admit how much he loves snuggling, or that anything he and Jon do could be described that way, and he will glare to death anyone who suggests it. But sometimes he and Jon sit on the couch and Jon's arm is around Spencer's shoulders and Spencer's head is resting against Jon's side, and Spencer's sure there's a more acceptable word to use because he refuses to accept "snuggling" but he isn't about to give it up.

* * *

So Jon has sort of a Thing for Spencer's neck. He can spend extraordinary lengths of time on it, kissing and licking and nipping while Spencer squirms under his hands. Spencer has ended up with some really spectacular hickies and keeps wishing he was Ryan and could get away with wearing scarves all the time, because as secretly thrilling as it is to go around with Jon's marks on him - he kind of really likes that part - it's getting embarrassing, the knowing looks and winks (fucking Gabe) he gets at work every time. Having said that- he definitely doesn't mind enough to get Jon to stop. Everyone's just jealous that none of them have a boyfriend as hot as Jon.

* * *

Jon comes back from work with a sore back from spending too much time bending over after hauling all his gear up a couple flights of stairs at their show the night before. When Spencer lets himself in - he and Jon exchanged keys a couple weeks back, it was stupidly adorable - to find Jon sacked out on his stomach on the couch, looking completely pathetic, all he can do is bring him some water and then perch over his hips and give him a back rub, strong hands working carefully up and down Jon's spine until he's a boneless sprawl of appreciative whimpers. Jon tries to get up, because Spencer's body is having the inevitable reaction to hearing Jon moan, but Spencer just smacks his arm and tells him not to fuck up his good work, while he wiggles off the couch to sit on the coffee table and jerk off where Jon can see him without moving.

Jon is really hard and breathing heavily by the time Spencer finishes, and groans when Spencer comes messily on his stomach. "Yeah?" he asks. Jon groans again. "Turn over," Spencer says breathlessly. Jon rolls onto his back, and Spencer slowly unzips his jeans and pulls them down with his boxers.

He goes down without any prompting or warning, and he's not exactly an expert yet - still sloppily enthusiastic - but it's so, so hot. Jon watches him, head propped up on the arm of the couch, and thinks that Spencer has never done this for anyone else. At that thought, he comes, too quickly to warn Spencer. He pulls off after a moment, throat working, and then grins and flops down to lie on Jon. "Hey, quit it," Jon murmurs, "you're going to fuck up my back again," and Spencer just laughs.

The next logical step is a hot shower, and Spencer gets hard again right away because a) he's nineteen and b) he's naked with Jon Walker. Jon doesn't, immediately, and smirks at Spencer when he starts rubbing up against Jon's thigh. "Hold on, I need a minute. Some of us aren't teenagers," he laughs. Spencer narrows his eyes and makes it his personal mission to get Jon on board as quickly as is humanly possible, Which is pretty quick, it turns out.

* * *

Spencer isn't used to having more than maybe a couple of beers, and Jon isn't really surprised when Spencer vastly overestimates his own tolerance and gets well and truly wasted the night Jon hosts a party. He's actually kind of a hilarious drunk, sloppy and loud and hugging anyone who stands still long enough. Jon's keeping an eye on him, and Brendon is sticking pretty close (possibly just because he likes being on the receiving end of the hugs, but Jon's comfortable with that - better him than Gabe; at least Brendon won't be copping a feel). Even Ryan's loosened up a bit, which for Ryan means he's in the corner, apparently trying to have an intense and serious conversation with Pete, who keeps laughing at inappropriate time.

Jon's only had a couple drinks, he wants to be clear-headed to make sure his various groups of friends, as well as Spencer's, are getting along okay. They are, possibly a little too okay - in hindsight, maybe putting Gabe and William in the same room wasn't his best idea ever.

Things are going pretty smoothly, though, generally. He's congratulating himself a little when Spencer sneaks up behind him, kisses his neck, and takes a fast grope.

(Or, from a certain point of view, a little earlier: "Spencer," Brendon says seriously, "Spencer, tequila is not your friend." Brendon is drinking a Capri Sun, and possibly making fun of Spencer.

But the tequila is leaving a nice warm buzz in Spencer's stomach that he's quite happy with, thank you very much, and he just smiles sunnily at Brendon - who is cute as a button, really, and should definitely go hang off of Ryan and make everyone happy, Spencer thinks - and decides to go find Jon again so he can be friendly with him as well as the tequila.

Brendon, who catches the latter half of this, just grins and grabs his camera, because the incriminating photos from this are gonna be awesome.)

"Jon," Spencer says, biting his ear a little too hard. "Jon, let's go into the bedroom, okay?"

His hand is toying with the waistband of Jon's jeans. Jon would very much like to say yes, but... no. "Spence, we can't," he says, trying to push Spencer's hands away. "Not now, okay? Later, though." He leans in to give him a quick kiss (there's a wolf-whistle at that, which could have come from basically anyone).

Spencer pouts, which is probably the cutest thing Jon has ever seen, when Jon firmly refuses to go any further - not in public, certainly not after having heard Greta and Vicky-T speculating about their relationship in embarrassingly graphic detail.

Luckily, Spencer is also a fairly pliant drunk, and lets Jon steer him towards the couch without resisting. He does try to pull Jon down with him, and he's pretty fucking strong, but he's also clumsy and Jon manages to evade him. "I'll be back soon, okay?" he says, kissing Spencer on the top of the head and leaving him to chatter at Mikey.

He does mean to be back soon, but he is kind of forced to, like, talk to his friends at his own party, even though Spencer keeps pouting at him a little, and shooting him hot, heavy-lidded looks that make Jon very, very tempted to start kicking people out the door – literally, if he has to.

Though it's too long for Jon's patience, it actually doesn't take long for people to catch on and start trickling out the door, many with knowing grins that Jon barely registers, some with wicked remarks that Jon wishes he could un-hear. Brendon and Ryan are unsurprisingly the last to leave. Brendon is talking to Jon -- distracting Jon – over by the door while Ryan is sitting next to Spencer and talking in serious, low tones. Jon thinks he should maybe be worried, but then Spencer laughs and kisses Ryan sloppily on the cheek, and it's so adorable that Jon can't really worry about it.

Also adorable is how Brendon and Ryan are holding hands as they leave, and Jon takes a moment to grin about it before looking back at Spencer, who is not grinning. Spencer's eyes have gone dark and he's licking his lips, and Jon sometimes can't believe how incredibly hot his boyfriend is.

Jon sits down beside Spencer, who is pretty well sunk into the couch cushions, and puts a hand on Spencer's leg, just because he can. "What did Ryan want?" he asks idly.

"Ryan doesn't want you to take advantage of me in my vulnerable state," Spencer says, not sounding too worried about it.

"Um." Jon snatches his hand from Spencer's leg, because he definitely doesn't want to do that, except for how it sort of sums up what he wants to do. "Spence…"

Spencer grabs Jon's hand and puts it back on his leg – significantly higher than Jon had placed it, actually. "Jon," he says seriously, then spoils it by grinning, and – wow, Spencer has the best smile in the world, Jon feels a little blinded by it, this close up. "Jon, I seriously, seriously don't think you even could take advantage of me, okay?"

Jon's fingers tighten reflexively on Spencer's thigh. "No, but you're not exactly yourself right now, and we don't have to do anything –"

Spencer puts his hand over Jon's and slides them up till it's not really Spencer's leg that Jon's holding. "I promise," he says, not spoiling his tone with a grin this time, "I promise I am smart enough not to be in this situation with someone I don't trust, and I know you wouldn't do anything that you thought for a second I wouldn't want, and, okay, just stay still, okay?" And then Spencer slides down the couch onto the floor, and, fuck, gets onto his knees and undoes Jon's jeans.

Jon totally braces himself for a blowjob, but Spencer doesn't really go for it, just cups Jon's balls and rubs his face against Jon's cock and, like, breathes on him. Jon gets really hard, really fast, but he knows he's not going to come from this, he wants more, so he grabs Spencer's shoulders and hauls him up so that he's straddling Jon's lap and so they can kiss while Jon struggles to pull Spencer's jeans down. They won't really go down further than his ass, not while his legs are stretched open over Jon's, but it's enough that they manage to line up their dicks and rut against each other while Spencer tries to hike Jon's t-shirt up, and Jon clutches at Spencer's soft hair.

It doesn't take long for either of them to come, which isn't very surprising, really. Spencer slumps down so that he's breathing hotly onto Jon's neck, and once Jon has calmed his own breathing, he maneuvers them to lie on the couch.

* * *

Brendon hasn't been drinking because he drove. He has a horrible purple minivan which he loves and everyone else pretends to hate, but mostly they love it too because it's just so convenient, having a friend with a van.

Ryan's a little tight-lipped in the car, and people have accused Brendon of being oblivious sometimes but he watches Ryan, and Ryan spends so much time blank-faced that even the smallest expressions come across like neon signs. "What's up, Ryan Ross?" Brendon asks, only taking little glances at Ryan, because he has to pay attention to the road.

"It's nothing," Ryan says. Ryan is a liar.

"No, hey," Brendon says beseechingly. "Ryan, come on, what's wrong?"

"I'm worried," Ryan admits, and then adds "about Spencer," like there was any possible doubt. Brendon makes an encouraging noise, and Ryan goes on. "He's not used to this, okay, and I don't want him getting hurt-" and then he trails off in a huff when Brendon starts laughing.

"Dude," Brendon says, trying not to laugh too hard as he pulls in front of Ryan's apartment building and parks. "Dude, have you even been paying attention? Jon's not going to hurt him, not in whatever way you think might happen. Jon is stupid in love with Spencer, and I'm pretty sure Spencer is stupid in love with Jon. And you need to sit back and laugh at them, because they won't always be this cute."

"They're not cute," Ryan mutters. He looks a little sullen, but gives up on that a moment later in the face of Brendon's skeptical-yet-disapproving look. "Okay, they are kind of cute."

Brendon grins at that. "Yeah, they are," he agrees, leaning in to kiss Ryan quickly. "And so are we."

* * *  
_fin_


End file.
